Describe yourself as if one of the W.A Characters were seeing you for the first time

Im in stage crew and Love doing it, so im going to describe myself as if i was in my crew clothes (Note that somethings i write concerning weapons ARE NOT TRUE!)

as we walked into the theater i noticed the faint silhouette of a person standing on the stage. As i got closer i could see he was a little over 6 feet tall and was dressed all in black from head to toe.m there was a crowbar slung across his back, and a large amount of knives in sheaths on both his legs. he had brown hair with a natural mix of blond in the front, and had multiple scratches on his arms from splinters and metal shards.

I can continue, but i will not and i hope everyone will understand the concept behind this.

Just as the sun began to rise. Its warm, life giving rays hitting the side of the Tower. A lone silhouette of person a could be seen moving down the center of the street leading our way. As this person got closer to the tower, it characteristics became more defined. Th figure stopped just a block down from the Tower, gazing up towards it. Now within close proximity of the Tower, I could see that it was a short man. Maybe just over 5 feet fall. From what I could see, he was dressed in a odd combination of clothing. On the top of his head was a dusty old cowboy hat, with a large feather sticking out of the hat band. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of orange sunglasses. His face had the look of many long days in the sun. Tracing his mouth a was a unkept goatee. His upper body had what looked like a military grade load bearing chest rig, with multiple magazine and grenade pouches. Underneath that was a dirty grey wifebeater, that partially hid a large chest tattoo. His arms were also tattooed to his wrists. His hands were covered by what looked like kevlar gloves. In his hands was a M4 Assault Rifle, outfitted with a Aimpoint scope and Surefire flashlight. He was wearing desert cammie trousers with several holes on the knees. His right leg had a knee pad with A+ written on it in permanent marker. Above that was a black thigh holster containing a handgun of some sorts.
He began walking once again, his head turning from left to right from time to time. As he got closer to the tower, he turned around. On his back was a rucksack, with a large caliber rifle strapped to the side. On his belt was a large knife, most likely a K-Bar. After a few paces, he turned around again. Continuing his way towards the Towers front door. After a few short moments he reached the door. Pounding on the door a few times. A few short moments passed, he pounded again. This time speaking. "Hey, anybody home." His voice reflected his attire. It had a confident tone with southern accent.

as we moved through the hospital we saw a door open slowly and the barrel of a rifle peeked through with a bayonet attached and a flashlight tapped to the bayonet. the door slid silently open and a man stepped through. 5'10" wearing black vinyl pants, engineer boots, a black hoody with the cuffs rolled up 3 times, a molle vest and a backwards operater cap. he had brown hair that faded into a bushy red beard. he was slightly overweight but looked like he knew manual labor was not the president of mexico, as if he'd recently taken a desk job and put on few pounds. he shouldered an M1 Carbine equipped with a folding stock and red dot sight. it had two thirty round magazines tapped together with more visible peeking out of ammo pouches on his vest. he had a molle holster on his vest which held a 1911 for quick access and a shotgun scabbard hanging down his left side with a pistol grip showing. there were patches scattered about the vest proclaiming things like "embrace the suck" "danger close delivery" with a sexy piunup riding the nose gun of an airplane, and an emerson knives patch, as well as a myriad of patches that identified things on the vest like tool pouches for different occassions. this was a salty man who looked ready to pull the trigger.

All of a sudden, BRAD FUCKING PITT!!!!

"As Soul would say"
As the sun sets on one man with nothing on but a pair of (from the torn leather on his feet) Steel Toe boots, then what looked like Cargo pants was covered with (what almost looked like) armor plating on his shins and thighs and then metal case where a Kabar Knife was sheathed on his right leg then there were what looked like a pair of studded metal Kneepads. then on his hip you can make out a sheath on his left side then a Plated Vest with not one but two Pistols placed in particular angles for where a Biter would be easy pickings with a long sleeve shirt with the same deal with his legs he has plating on his forearms and shoulders with a kick ass knife on each forearm with what looked like brass knuckles attached to a Kabar Knife and a 2 in spike at the bottom of the hilt of the knife. then his gloves were leather biker gloves with metal plating on them too almost like snake skin. then hes holding a Benelli M4 Tactical 12 Gauge Black Shotgun and what a beauty that thing is. then on his back is a Springfield Armory National Match M1A Sniper Rifle then he has nothing on his head except a pair of sunglasses
wish i knew where he got his guns!

(Perspective of Michael's)

It is the deep, throaty sound of a mid-sized V-engine that made me curious. It came from one of the smaller streets leading to The Colony. While I watched during my guard duty out of the window, a mintgreen, old-schoolish butter and bread motorbike came around the corner and drove nearer to the main entrance. The person sitting on it wore heavy boots, simple, but tough looking jeans, a heavy motorbike-jacket with plenty of those protectors woven into it, and a white helmet. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes. Somehow he looked slightly too big for this motorbike; but considering the average look of the bike, this guy was like the guy next door as well - so after all the picture was just normal.
On his back he had a huge rucksack - packed with plenty of stuff. The rucksack hat several extensions fitted to it - small bags filled with whatever tools and items this guy thought would be useful. The motorbike itself was equipped with a case-system at the sides and a huge windshield on its front. With ropes different bags and sacks were tightly fastened to those cases. It looked like this guy would have had everything he needed to survive on a backpacker-tour with his motorbike. And somehow this stuff must've been enough to survive out there in this zombieworld for such a long time.
When the driver with his bike slowly approached the entrance, it was obvious that he was not armed. Only a crowbar and a hand-axe were fastened to both sides of the rucksack. Dry blood covered them.
The motorbike stopped. The guy got off his bike and slowly moved to the entrance. Now that he has left his bike, he readied the crowbar for whatever he expected to come. Now I realized that all his clothing was suitable as kind of a first line defense in close combat - the jeans was this kevlar-kind with protectors woven into it, just the kind stuntmen wore; heavy leather gloves protected his hands; and the jacket and helmet offered some more protection; and all of his clothing showed that a lot of trust was put into them. And they have proven it - obviously several times, although some parts had received some fixing or needed some more.
He exchanged some words with one of the tower-guards; I received a call what to do; and I told the guards to let the guy into the lock where Kelly, Pegs and I were degraded when we entered this place for the first time.

(Saul at the lock)
At first I thought: "Woah! What a huge guy!" But he was in these motorbike clothes that showed signs of deadly combat, and I relaized that these maybe made him look bigger then he probably was. He looked like he had jumped out of one of the Mad Max movies, or shit. His rucksack was heavy, but the guy didn't seem to care - not while he walked, stood, or when he finally put it down. He moved slowly; and although he wore his helmet and the sunglasses, I recognized how he cautiously observed the room; the crowbar rested in his hand. At the moment I was glad to be on the safe side of the glasses; there was so much patience and danger alike in this guy that I hardly believed he wouldn't be able to defend himself; although his moves showed that there was no combat drill in his bones, his experiences in close combat with zeehs and strength reflected a deadly danger in the way the crowbar was readied and resting in his hand.
So, there he was on the outside and in the lock, and here I was on the safe side of the window.
I asked him to put off his helmet. He did not hesitate. Fluently he took the heavy thing off - together with the glasses. His brown hair with first glimpses of silvery-white streaks showing was wild and needed some serious care. His face was unshaven for what must have been at least half a year. Dark rings were below his eyes. And his skin looked unclean and sweaty. "Oh, man. You look like shit!" He looked at me without emotion, but at least the left corner of his move indicated a sarcastic smile.
Then there were his eyes. he was barely able to hold an eye-look. It was not so much unease or kind of being alarmed; he just didn't look into my eyes for longer then just brief moments. His eyes displayed a mixture of delusion, sadness, kind of a distanced way of looking, but also the burning desire to live and to fight for survival. He rubbed his unshaven face and massaged some of the sweat of his forehead.
Then I asked him to put of his clothing; and I explained him that I would have to check him for any signs of bite-marks or woundings. Funny. Although he seemed to be alarmed, he did as I told him - again without hesitation. And it was quite amazing to see that although he put off all his motorbike clothing with all those protectors woven into it, the guy still was of an impressive size; but neither athletic, especially muscular, nor 'fat'. Just big like tall with a huge chest and pillars for legs.
When I told him that he looked alright, he started to put on things again. I asked him what he wanted at the Colony. He looked at me for what felt like a long time. Then he said: "A glass of water and maybe a corner to rest for a night ..."

I watched in discontent as my newest creations were unable to finish the job that should have been easy to them. As I turned to run at the sound of a chopper arriving, I looked over my shoulder as my mini-army had been beaten. But not I, it was time to finish what I started. I couldn't watch as my favorite creations died anymore. I had to stop the things destroying my joy. I fled as part of my suit waved behind me. Getting ready for the next time, because when I next saw them it would be the end. Even if I had to do it myself.....

Pegs View- I watched the girl as she came running. She made sure to be slower than a pair of kids with her. It looked like she was about 16 years old, but I'd learn later she was actually 21 years. The children were 11 and 13, her younger siblings. She held them in high regards, and would give up herself to make sure they were okay, even if she really didn't want to become one of those disgusting creatures. The woman was on the shorter side, standing at only about 5'4" while her brother was taller than her at 5'6". Her hair was pulled back into a somewhat sloppy yet neat bun, though the color reminded me of chestnuts. She wasn't fat, but she wasn't skinny either, it didn't help that in normal situations and such that she slouched to make herself appear fat... and I learned she wore a bind over her chest. Her face seemed kind of square like, and strangely pretty. Her eyes were rather unique from what I could tell as she looked at me behind the desk. They were different colors, the left iris a blue and the right a green while around the center coming out in a fire like pattern was a golden brown. After I assigned them a room together, she smiled for the first time, and suddenly I felt a lot calmer while being even happier. She really seemed to be grateful, and had this infectious aura to an extent that seemed to pull you in. Sin, was an interesting woman to meet.

Orale!! Another Mexican. lets kill some Zombies Bro!

Ink: "Man, I thought I looked good in a suit!"